


The Last Dance of Miami Morty

by futagogo



Series: Miami Rick and Morty [5]
Category: Pocket Mortys, Rick and Morty
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Badass Miami Morty, Badass Summer Smith, Blood and Violence, Brother-Sister Relationships, Brotherly Bonding, Crossover, Damsels in Distress, Denial of Feelings, Electrocution, Father-Son Relationship, Fights, Grandparents & Grandchildren, Growing Up, Hugs, Jealous Rick Sanchez (Rick and Morty), Jealousy, M/M, Mind Manipulation, Porn With Plot, Rescue, Rick can deal with it, Rick is the Damsel, Slutty Miami Morty, Temporary Amnesia, Torture, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, Unhealthy Relationships, suicide mission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:42:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26509192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/futagogo/pseuds/futagogo
Summary: Morty's memory has been erased and now he doesn’t remember his relationship with Rick. He resumes his regular life, with its usual line-up of bedmates.As for Rick, he keeps his distance from his grandson in the hopes that his memories won’t resurface, even if it means suffering in silence. Besides, there’s still the business of getting to the bottom of who kidnapped Morty.But this time, he’ll be facing the dangers alone and might not get out so easily...
Relationships: Miami Morty/Miami Rick (Pocket Mortys), Morty Smith/Gene Vagina, Morty Smith/Jan Vincent, Rick Sanchez/Morty Smith
Series: Miami Rick and Morty [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/603913
Kudos: 31





	The Last Dance of Miami Morty

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [La dernière danse de Miami Morty](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15267339) by [Satanders](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Satanders/pseuds/Satanders). 



> [from the original author]  
> I'm really sorry for the huge delay in getting this fic out. I started looking for a job and had less time and motivation to devote to writing this story, even though I had the plot already laid out and everything.
> 
> So, to make it up to you (and to give myself more time to write the ending) this final installment of the series will be two chapters long!!! That’s right, this is a series. Some of you may have forgotten, so go back and read over the previous parts again.
> 
> Indeed, as it is a hefty chunk of writing that will probably exceed 20k words, I cut it into two pieces. That should make it more digestible for you...and easier for me to write more.

Morty loved sex. He loved to be fucked, rough, by men both young and old. He had no qualms about it and didn’t bother trying to hide his preferences. He let his desires lead him, without a second thought, to VIP nightclubs or the beach, where he’d lounge around and soak up some rays. Every facet of his life oozed “easy, cool and sexy.” He had only to look among his adoring fans while dancing at the bar to pick out a stud for a one-night stand. Deep down, he didn’t give a shit about anything as long as he had money, sex, and admiration.   


And yet, while lying on silky sheets in a four-star hotel room with Jan Michael Vincent deliciously massaging his legs, he was bored.

"Can we skip the foreplay?" he asked hopefully.

Jan looked up at him with lust in his eyes and proceeded to help him out of his speedo. 

"Aaw, you’re not hard?" he remarked, a little disappointed.

"It’ll come," Morty said, rolling onto his belly.

His lover for the night climbed over him. He was hung like a horse and had been sporting a boner for several minutes already.

The young dancer spread his buttocks with both hands to reveal his small, throbbing hole, ever supple and well lubed.

“You can give it to me,” he whispered with a teasing lilt.

Not needing to be told twice, Jan pressed his cock against the crack of his companion’s ass, then began to drive the length of his penis into the sweet wetness there.

The muscle gave way beneath his cock to accommodate its rigid girth. He thrust once, twice, before sinking fully into the little ass he had dreamed about for weeks, having watched him writhe around the pole every night.

The famous actor gave a satisfied groan and began an unforgiving rhythm of violent rutting. He was determined to make the most of this once-in-a-lifetime chance with the young man if only to satisfy the burning need that had blazed within him since seeing him onstage for the first time. He crushed his testicles, already pulled tight with approaching release, against the smooth backside of the blond. Morty, meanwhile, had pulled a pillow under his chest, resting his chin on it while he scrolled through his phone’s messages.

Instead of taking the wind out of Jan’s sails, Morty’s indifference only inflamed his lover's desire. He leaned over to mouth at Morty’s nape, slowing his pace to a gentle lovemaking and pressing himself against his back to penetrate deeper. The young man began to moan, but he still logged onto Twitter. Something fishy was going on. There were obvious gaps in his retweets and likes, as if someone had purposefully erased them. The same went for his Instagram. Oddly enough, the strange phenomenon didn’t extend to his Facebook, which was relatively conservative considering his parents followed him there. He only ever posted lines from poems, photos of funny cats, celebrity news, and quotes from famous people. The kind of stuff Rick couldn’t stand but never commented on.

The kisses that Jan left on his shoulders made him shudder. The panting actor whispered, his voice hoarse:

“You're as tight as a virgin--hngh!--but you take it like a pro. You have a real goddess ass, Morty, aungh... I’m gonna...empty my balls in you, baby!”

The young man flinched at hearing his nickname and clenched up tightly. Jan groaned into his neck and hugged him with his muscular arms as he shot his load into him.

As always, the sensation trumped the teenager’s best efforts to remain stoic, and he gave a weak squeal, cumming into the sheets.

Jan caught his breath and stroked Morty’s shoulders as he kissed him on the ear. Even though he’d just cum, his cock was already hardening as he humped against him, smearing his sperm across the cleft of Morty’s ass.

“Ooh, baby... I'm going to fuck you all night long... Gonna fill you up so much, you won’t be able to walk straight for a week...”   


He thrust in suddenly, and Morty shivered as he slammed into his prostate.

"You'll still feel me inside even when I'm gone," Jan husked, his voice dripping with lascivious promise. “I'm going to stretch your little hole so wide--”

"Less talking!" The young man cut him off, turning his head to kiss him.

The actor was smart enough to keep quiet... and he was handsomely rewarded for his silence.

~~*~~

At breakfast, everyone noticed Morty's grimace as he eased into his chair with ample caution. Summer chuckled.

“Looks like someone had a wild night!”   


"Summer!" Jerry scolded, blushing red as a tomato with embarrassment.

Morty's overt—and clearly deviant—sexuality always made him uncomfortable.

“I was talking about a bender, Dad! Get your head out of the gutter!" she retorted.

“I’m not an idiot. I know exactly what you were talking about.”

"We don’t talk about that at the table," Beth interrupted.

Morty paid no mind to the conversation. Rick was staring at him from over a stack of pancakes. He looked furious. The teenager didn’t know why, but he was pleased to see it.

He gave an exaggerated yawn, pretending not to notice his grandfather's expression. Jan was a vigorous lover, insatiable and well endowed. They had made love until the early morning hours, leaving Morty exhausted.

The actor had asked him to stay, but Morty had insisted on returning home so his parents wouldn’t worry. It was a shoddy excuse; they never worried. Still, he hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that someone was waiting for him back home.

The feeling of something missing between his ass cheeks was unbearable. He’d probably have to find another lay this afternoon. The only question was who it’d be: Brad, Toby, or maybe Frank. Whoever it was, it had to be someone with a big cock. Satisfaction was elusive as ever, and he yearned for sex, needed it, to ignore that hollow feeling that gnawed at him. Ever since he’d learned the art of seducing men, it was the solution to all his problems. Never mind the fact that the gratification it brought was itself fleeting. Still, he never tired of trying, collecting lovers like it was going out of style. Desperately searching for a way out...but despite his best efforts, he could just never manage to break free of the cycle.

"We should go on an outing together," Jerry piped up suddenly.

He was looking straight at Morty when he said it, and everyone at the table turned to stare as well.

“Just you and me, on the boat. Some good old father and son time. W-what do ya say, champ?”

The teenager couldn’t bring himself to contradict him, even though it was obviously the worst idea in the world. Beth, however, nodded.

“Why, yes! I think that would do you wonders.”

Morty shot a pleading look at Rick, in the hopes that he’d come to his rescue, but it was a lost cause. The old man continued to dig into his maple syrup and pancakes, feigning obliviousness.

"Then it's decided!" Jerry declared. “This afternoon, we’ll take the boat out and go for a little trip on the water.”

Morty knew in advance that he was going to be sick. He hated it.

But what could he do but accept?

~~*~~

"Ah! Nothing beats that ocean breeze! You feel that, Morty? It's the wind of freedom!!” Jerry exclaimed, his sunglasses perched low on his nose and his hands resting on the helm.

“All I smell is pollution,” mumbled the teenager, too low for his father to hear.   


“What was that, Morty? Oh, c’mon. Can’t you put your phone away for five minutes? You’re as bad as your sister!”

With a roll of his eyes, Morty gave up his smartphone to walk carefully to the boat’s railing. They weren’t going fast enough to give him seasickness, and the waters were calm. He gazed out at the horizon and sighed, the view striking him still with an inexplicable bout of nostalgia.

"You know, you and I, it's been a while since we've had a good talk," Jerry began.

"Probably because you avoid me like the plague," Morty countered, anger curling at the edges of his words.

He still hadn’t forgiven his father for how he’d reacted when Morty first came out. Although he hadn’t shown it, he’d been hurt by Jerry's blatant shame and disapproval. And here, he’d hoped that the years of enduring so much worse would make him impervious to his parent’s petty judgment. Unfortunately, he’d been wrong.

Jerry coughed awkwardly. “In any case, it feels good to be here,” he continued quietly. “Just the two of us. I...I’ve missed you, son...”

Liar. Morty shot a glance over at his father’s face in profile as he continued to steer the boat, as though he might somehow be able to uncover the real reason behind this little father-son outing through sight alone.

For now, he saw no indication that Jerry was up to anything other than simply enjoying himself.

“I'm just saying...it's not easy for me...you know... With your mother and all my responsibilities...”

"What responsibilities?" Morty growled. “You sell luxury vehicles.”

“Hey, it's not that easy! I’d like to see you try! Not everyone can twerk to make it rain money!”

The teen crossed his arms over his chest, looking at his feet as he sulked. Jerry sighed and slowed down the boat before switching off the engine.

“Morty...”

"You want me to quit, don’t you?"

Jerry froze.

“I...I don’t know. Do  **_you_ ** want to quit? I mean, quit dancing at that club.”

“No. I like my job.”

Neither said anything in the silence that followed.

It was hard for Jerry to accept this part of Morty. He almost missed the awkward, clumsy, and simple-minded boy he’d once been. Utterly forgettable. Then Rick had shown up, and Morty had changed. Jerry still resented Rick for robbing him of the chance at a normal relationship with his son. He still didn’t know what had triggered the change in Môrt that had come too swiftly for him to even have a chance to adapt to it.

He knew it was probably just a phase. Hell, it was normal for kids to grow up and have their own experiences. But maybe he would have just preferred Morty to stay a child forever. At least that way, it’d be easier to handle. As if marriage wasn’t complicated enough, now he had to deal with the complications of his teenage children...

Of course, it was a selfish notion. Then again, Summer hadn’t gone through as wild a transition. If only Morty were the same.

At least that way he might have been able to maintain a relationship with Morty, maybe even understand him. As it was now, they were like two strangers, as different as a Los Angeles urbanite and a Kazakhstani.

“So, uh...what have you been up to lately?”

Morty sighed loudly. He picked up his phone and answered in the most blasé voice he could muster:

“Nothing special. I dance. I make money.”

"That's good...I guess." Jerry kept his eyes on the horizon.

Morty frowned then finished sending a request to Twitter to retrieve his archives, before he turned back to his father.

He was suddenly struck by how small his father looked just then. Jerry Smith had never been a man of any great importance, neither to his family nor the world at large. But Morty realized that also meant he was incredibly fragile. He had neither the strength of his mother nor the charisma of Rick.

Maybe it was because he was less accomplished than his own son that he resented seeing Morty so free and independent. Empowered.

It was sad. Because both of them knew perfectly well that Morty couldn’t live with his parents forever. Summer had already taken steps to leave the nest, and Morty wouldn’t be far behind. It was inevitable.

Slowly, Morty walked up to his father and put a hand on his shoulder. He’d almost forgotten that one day he’d lose him, and that no matter how shaky their relationship was, he’d miss him.

"I’ve been thinking...about finding an apartment," he said.

“Your mother told me.”

"And...?" Apprehension hid just behind his voice.

Jerry gave a resigned sigh, but still granted him a tight smile.

“I think we did our best to raise you and your sister. We weren’t always perfect parents, far from it. But, Morty, what I wanted to tell you is this.”

He pursed his lips and glanced away before clearing his throat and looking back at him, eyes pointedly avoiding his gaze.

“We love you. So if you choose to leave home, we won’t stop you. If you need to stay a little longer, we'll give you all the time you need. We...”   


His voice hitched.

“I may be uncomfortable with...with the way you dress and your behavior sometimes. But you’re my son, and I love you. None of that really matters, so long as you know that you're always welcome at home.”

“And who are you to judge—”

“Well, what are parents for?” His father cut him off with a wink.

Morty felt a weight slip from his shoulders. He gave a small smile, equal parts annoyed and touched.

“Yeah. I guess you’re right about that.”

~~*~~

It’d been some time since Rick last took Morty on an adventure. He’d go off on his own for days, often returning home a wreck. Then he’d rest up and leave again. He claimed he was just busy, which was probably true, considering Morty rarely saw him at the club.

When Morty returned home that evening, feeling light-hearted thanks to the conversation he’d had with his father, he noticed Rick’s absence again. Worry tried to edge itself into his good mood, but he fought it. He didn’t even know why he’d been hoping to find Rick there.

When he next went on stage, he let the music consume him, until there was no room for anything else. His body moved naturally, automatically, his extensive training honing his movements to sumptuous perfection. He danced with a warrior’s savagery, adrenaline pumping through his veins, awash in the satisfaction of bringing people to their knees. The speed at which he flew around the bar was enough to make him dizzy, but he centered himself by keeping his eyes locked on a fixed point. Usually, that point was Rick's impassive face in the crowd, but tonight his gaze latched itself on a random face. It was a big man in his late fifties with a face carved in hard lines. He was sweating buckets as he devoured Morty with his eyes.

Something about the wrinkles of his forehead and the color of his receding hairline reminded Morty of something, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He finished his dance by rolling to the floor in a perfectly controlled fall. Men swarmed like flies to the edge of the stage where they tried to tuck wads of cash into the elastic of his thong. It seemed unreal to see them like this, today of all days, but something he couldn’t voice was spoiling his fun.

As he went to rub his chin on his own shoulder in an unconscious gesture, the chip that was hidden unbeknownst to him beneath the skin of his neck suddenly let off a small nerve impulse. The sharp discomfort disappeared as quickly as it had appeared as if by magic, and soon Morty was right back to what he was doing. He crawled forward on his belly, stroking a cheek here, lips there, and scratching mischievously at a hand that came too close to his ass. He was feeling that rush again. The rush of being in total control.

He didn’t notice it when the flushed face that had caught his eye earlier got up to leave.

After his performance, Morty picked up his coat from the dressing room, gave friendly goodbyes to his coworkers, and then took the back door to leave for home. He was already scrolling through his phone to see what party he could wrap up his evening at, when he bumped smack into someone.

"You’ve been hard to find," said a voice, hustling Morty against the wall of the alleyway.

Morty lowered his shades to eye the man.

"Oh... It’s you," he said, flatly. “And who are you exactly?”

He didn’t feel any fear. It wasn’t the first time one of his fans had waited to ambush him at the club’s exit. Usually, it wasn’t a bother, and sometimes he would even give them a little service in exchange for lavishing him with praise and compliments.

There was nothing he loved more than being the center of someone’s universe, even if that meant kneeling in a dirty alleyway. He’d lived through worse.

After all, he had seen the cosmos. So he knew better than most that when all was said and done, he was an insignificant speck. Maybe that was why he liked the idea of actually being special. Unique. If only to one person.

"Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten!" the man yelled, grabbing Morty roughly. “You have to remember me!”

"Remember who?" Morty growled, shrugging himself free. “I don’t know what—”

Suddenly, recognition hit him in a flash.

“You’re Gene Vagina! I’ve seen you on TV!”

Gene recoiled, taken aback.

“Don’t play dumb with me! You know who I am. You scammed me—”

"Oh, I-I doubt that..." Morty murmured, taking a step forward, a false smile plastered on his lips. “If we did what I think we did, then I’m sure you got your money’s worth, baby.”

He laid his delicate hands on the senator's chest and felt a thrill of satisfaction when it shuddered. His smile widened.

“Is that why you came? You want more?”

“I don’t... I don’t have...” Vagina stammered.

The blond hooked his fingers into the senator's belt, pulling himself against him.

“I know exactly what you want. And we can do it right now.”

Vagina’s tired, sagging face lit up like a Christmas tree, shining a scarlet red. Morty licked his lips.

He didn’t care who he got off with. As long as he got to cum in the end, anyone would do.

“Hurry up and get those pants off so you can fuck me!” ordered Morty, massaging his crotch in slow, savoring strokes. He could feel Gene’s arousal growing there, as well as in his own pants.

The old senator took his face in his large hands and kissed him. Morty rolled his eyes but allowed it. A lot of guys thought kissing meant forcing your tongue into someone’s mouth and spinning it around like a washing machine drum to coat it in as much saliva as possible. It was not only ridiculous but revolting, at least when done to his mouth. Now, as for his ass… He liked rimming as much as the next guy, and when one of his first high school conquests, Toby Matthews, had driven his tongue into his ass, he’d had one of the best orgasms of his life.   


Reliving the moment, Morty started to get hard, and he guided Gene’s hands to his hips to slip off his bottoms.

“Oh, you little slut,” Vagina growled. “You know exactly how to turn me on...”

Freeing Morty from his underwear and kissing him on the neck, he undid his belt. The young man took the bottle of lube that he always carried around from the pocket of his fur coat and generously coated his fingers, sliding them down the crack of his ass. He began panting as he fingered himself, while the senator continued to whisper obscenities in his ear.

“You're gonna dance on my fat cock. Did you like it last time? It cost me dearly.” He moaned. “My...my wife found the pictures...but, oh, it was worth it! I’ve never stopped thinking about you, your smell, your slender arms, your pert little ass! I’ve been waiting to take you again and fuck you like you deserve!”

He roughly whipped Morty around by the shoulders, bent him over a trash can, and mounted him from behind. The teen moaned, turned on by how dirty they were being and ignoring the tell-tale pang of an encroaching migraine.  _ Last time? What last time? _

The senator pressed the tip of his cock against Morty’s anus, and Morty pushed back into it, his hole unfurling like a blossoming flower as it swallowed him up. Soft muscle engulfed the hard rod of flesh, and Vagina uttered an ecstatic growl, digging his fingers into the dainty ass of his young lover. He gave a mighty thrust that shook the teenager beneath him, allowing him to sink in to the hilt. With a satisfied sigh, he caressed Morty's sides.

“So tight…” he groaned “My little whore! You like to take it in the ass, don’t you?”

Morty arched, groaning when Vagina’s thick fingers ventured under his tiny top, eagerly playing with his nipples. He clenched around the senator's penis which scraped vigorously along his insides. Morty gasped at the sound of testicles slapping against his own and he clung to the edge of the trash can to keep from reeling to the ground under the assault of the larger man’s thrusts.

"Slut," Vagina growled, crushing him beneath his wild rutting. “It's your fault. All your fault! And now you have to pay...as my cum bucket!”

Another shudder of pleasure drove him on.

“You'll wait for me every night after work, like a good little whore.” Another groan worked its way out from his tight throat. “And suck me off under my desk...to relieve me of the stresses of the day...”

“Oh, yes! Yes!!” Morty keened, delirious with his approaching orgasm.

“Take my cock, you bitch!” the senator roared, as his climax overtook him.

The brutal sensation of cum splashing his insides made Morty tense. He tried to focus on reaching orgasm himself, but it eluded him. He couldn’t get there. With a frustrated moan, he grabbed his penis and quickly jerked himself off to completion.

Usually, just the act of a man cumming inside him was enough to bring him to climax.

Vagina gave another couple of feeble thrusts before slowly withdrawing. The sight of his milky semen dribbling down the boy's tanned thighs made him swallow with desire.

He grabbed Morty’s wrist to turn him around.

“You're coming with me.”

Suddenly a pair of headlights flashed to life at the end of the alleyway, blinding them both.

"Who’s there?" exclaimed Vagina, shielding his eyes from the light.

"Party’s over, so get lost," came a hoarse voice laced with venom.

"You...you're the guy who took those photos!" Vagina yelled, pulling Morty close. “Take as many photos as you want. I don’t care. Your blackmail won’t do a lick of good anymore!”

The car’s engine gave a frightening roar.

"If you don’t let go of him right now, it's not just your repuUURPtation I'm going to attack," the mysterious figure bellowed.

"He’s mine—OW!" His thunderous retort was cut short by a wail of pain as Morty’s teeth came down hard on his hand.

"I don’t belong to anyone!" Morty snapped, slipping free. “You psycho!”

He flipped the bird to the driver of the car, having a pretty good idea of who it was, and pulled up his speedo before making his escape.

"You're dead," Rick whispered as he adjusted the dashcam fixed onto Vagina.

His victim gave one last final cry as the car hurled itself at him.

~~*~~

"You didn’t have to get involved. I was managing the situation just fine," Morty grumbled from his perch on the passenger seat, his arm hanging halfway out the window and a lollipop in his mouth.

"You weren’t managing shit," muttered Rick from behind the steering wheel. “And how many times do I have to tell you to make them wear a condom? Damn it, you're going to ruin my leather seat!”

"I’ll keep that in mind next time," Morty said bitterly.

He was thinking about what the guy had said about photos and blackmail. It was evident he seemed to know Morty, but Morty had no recollection of him. Granted, he had slept with so many people, he didn’t always remember every single guy. But a scam?  **_That,_ ** he would have remembered.

"What was that stuff he said about photos?" he asked, watching the nighttime cityscape pass by.

"Y-you could stand to be a little mmmore choosy about your partners, Moeurghty," said Rick, blatantly ignoring his question. “Y-you really know how to pick ‘em.”

"I don’t remember asking for your opinion on who I sleep with," the teen retorted.   


Rick was silent as he pursed his lips. Even in his silence, Morty could tell he was angry just by the crease that etched itself in his forehead. Screw him. Rick was in no position to be lecturing him on morality.

He plunged back into his own thoughts, mulling over the strange feeling of unease and nostalgia that ate away at him.

~~*~~

This sucked.

Rick was a genius, the smartest man in the universe, yet even he hadn’t foreseen this. He missed his relationship with Morty, and it was killing him. He knew it was deranged, toxic, and dangerous for his grandson, and it was for those exact reasons that he’d put an end to it.

But to see Morty live his life as if nothing had happened was torture. Every time Morty came back from one of his dates, he couldn’t help but scream inside. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t normal. Nothing was. Regardless, he put up with it as a kind of punishment he knew he so richly deserved.   


He should never have let things go that far. He should have stopped Morty the first time he’d come onto him. If he had, he wouldn’t be feeling like his soul was being trampled on every time Morty slept with someone.

Rick hated feeling like that. He’d considered erasing his own memory, but he had quickly rejected the idea. Despite his countless wrongs and regrets, he still wanted to hold onto them. They were what made him who he was. If he lost what made him him, then who would he be?   


He was too scared to find out. Tampering with one's own memories was dangerous business, too dangerous for him to risk. Plus, there were quicker methods, albeit less effective in the long run, to help him forget what was killing him.

Resigned, he opened a portal to yet another familiar alien bar. He had always had a preference for this addiction. It allowed him, for a brief time, to not have to think about what was going wrong in his life.   


To no longer think at all, in fact.

In a corner of his now-deserted underground lab, the prisoner Rick had been keeping captive for two weeks snored into his gag. His gold earring, a triangle with one eye, blinked once.

~~*~~

Morty's move took place on a Wednesday. Summer cut class to help out for the occasion. He didn’t have that much stuff, minus all his clothes. The apartment he had found was small but quaint. He had been lucky to find something for so cheap. It was a miracle, in fact. When he had signed the lease, he’d noticed that the landlord kept averting his eyes, like he was in a hurry to leave, like he was running a risk if he took too long. He’d avoided making eye contact.   


But Morty didn’t care. What mattered was that he was finally taking his first steps toward adulthood. Living with his parents wasn’t cutting it anymore. He needed space.

In the past, he could have said that life at home suited him because that’s where Rick was. He spent his time tagging along with him, having thrilling adventures. But it wasn’t the same now and hadn’t been for a while.

Rick wasn’t even there for his move, probably asleep in his secret lair.

Morty tried to hide his bitterness. Besides, his sister was there, and even if they had their differences, he still loved her. Her being there touched him.

"You could have hired a moving company," Jerry griped, dropping a box to the floor before rubbing his back with a miserable groan.

Beth ran into him as she entered the apartment with two bags full of clothes.

"You’re in the way!" she snapped.

She came into the main room and admired the two French doors that looked out onto the beach, arms akimbo. Morty froze, anxiously awaiting her final verdict.

"This place is a fantastic find," she said at last. “I'm sure you'll like it here.”

Morty gave a small, relieved smile, pleased to get approval from at least one family member. He took out two mugs and served coffee to his parents. The coffeemaker was the first thing he'd pulled out of the boxes.   


“Thanks for helping me. I never could have done it without you.”

“I’ll say it again. You really should have hired movers.”

“Jerry, do you have any idea how much that kind of service costs in Miami? He’s got a tight budget. What do you expect? And fortunately, he has us!”

“I'm just saying...”

Summer rolled her eyes.

“Come on, Morty. We're going for a walk on the beach!”

She took him by the arm and dragged him outside.

They walked. It was well into the afternoon. They’d almost finished unloading the van, and the beach was deserted. Morty knew it wouldn’t be for long. There were always people who came out at night to party and play music. He liked that atmosphere with all the noise and lights. Never feeling alone. In fact, his first fear when he’d decided to move into his own place was the silence. Family life brought a lot of conflict with it, but it was still his life, and now all that was going to change. He wasn’t sure how he’d adapt to it.

But he didn’t really have to worry. This was going to be exciting! Even so, the fact that Rick hadn’t shown up tied knots in his stomach.

Summer sat on the hot sand, using her sarong as a towel. She was wearing a pink two-piece swimsuit. Morty stood to watch the sun setting over the sea.   


“So that's it, huh?”

"What?" Morty asked, not taking his eyes off the horizon.

"You've overtaken me," his sister answered softly.

“You’re 5’8”,” Morty shot back, grimacing.   


“I wasn’t talking about that.”

They were silent, thinking about what she’d meant.

“You know the only reason grandpa’s not here is because he refuses to see you grow up,” she whispered.

“Rick’s an asshole.” Morty crossed his arms.   


He knew he shouldn’t feel abandoned. But the way Rick had been treating him lately, the distance he felt between them, hurt. His absence now was just the icing on the cake of all the things that were wrong.   


Things he would have liked to understand if only he could ask.

Summer glared at him.

“He didn’t say anything when you announced that you’d found an apartment, but he was shocked. I would know. He cried in my room afterward.”

Morty blushed violently and finally looked at her.

“He did what?”

His sister giggled.

“Since you weren’t there, you didn’t hear us, but we talked a long time. We finally talked about...well, it was basically the ravings of a drunk man, but I did what I could to calm him down. He said he was afraid that you’d stop talking to him completely. That you’d replace him with someone else. He said he would do anything for you...”

She pouted, and Môrt was keenly aware of how much it hurt her to say all this. She’d always envied the relationship Morty had with their grandfather.

"Yeah? Then why isn’t he here today?" spat Morty angrily. “If he wanted to do something for me, now was the time. Instead, as usual, he avoids the problem. He doesn’t come to talk to me about it—”

"You’re one to talk. You’re always out of the house," Summer countered.

"I'm not going to hang around and mope, hoping he'll come and get me." The teen was starting to get worked up.

His sister sighed.

“If he won’t come to you about it...maybe you should come to him. I mean, if you want to. And I think you do. You’ve been sulking all day about him not being here...”

Morty balked. He thought he had hidden it pretty well. Summer smiled and winked at him.

“Nothing gets by me.”

"Looks like it," the boy mumbled, sitting down next to her.

He hesitated, fidgeting a little before asking,

“So...what else did he say?”

"You really wanna know?" It was more a tease than a challenge.

“Aw, jeez, just say it already. I know you’re dying to.”

“Ha! But first you have to pay up!”

“What? You’d make your own brother pay? What kind of monster are you?” he said, feigning offense.

Summer gave him a light punch on the shoulder, and they laughed as they watched the sun set, the sky above them cooling to indigo.

~~*~~

Rick's workday finally ended around 3:00 in the morning. He’d locked himself in his underground lab, even ignoring mealtime, to focus on interrogating his prisoner, Antonio, Morty's kidnapper, who seemed to know nothing—at least, not consciously.

With the help of his dream inceptor device, Rick was able to penetrate the thoughts of the sorry henchman, hoping to find out the identity of his employer. It had taken a long time because he first had to sort out the made-up fantasies from the truth—the  **_real_ ** memories. With Scary Terry’s help, he’d managed to venture into the darkest recesses of Antonio's subconscious, where he was able to find out about the strong-willed redhead who appeared to report directly to the boss. The guy who had tried to take him out by attacking Morty.   


It was unforgivable, and Rick would make sure no more harm could be done to Morty. Besides, he also had his racketing to protect. It wouldn’t be good for business if others thought that they could mess with his grandson to get to him. He didn’t need more people pulling this kind of bullshit. Especially now, when he was trying to let Morty have a life free from Rick’s problems.   


Now that he’d seen her face, it was easy enough to hack the ID card service and find her picture and name.

Cloaked in darkness, he gazed intently at the face that stared at him impassively from the computer screen. Her first and last names, along with some irrelevant facts, were written in black and white.

Wendy Corduroy.

"I've got you now," he hissed between yellowed teeth, his bloodshot eyes, and the bags under them, hidden behind his shades.

~~*~~

The light reflecting off of Rick's sunglasses obscured his eyes, giving him an enigmatic look that Morty would have liked to imitate. But Rick had insisted that he wear transparent lenses. They made him look cuter, he said.   


Morty knew perfectly well why Rick preferred this look on him. With Morty playing the innocent, it was easier for Rick to keep people distracted while Morty acted on the sly. When in high-risk situations, all eyes were automatically riveted on Rick Sanchez, the famous criminal wanted across the multiverses, and certainly not on the harmless boy-toy on his arm. They underestimated him, not realizing that because he was Rick's partner and of the same blood, he was just as good at getting out of a tight spot when the situation called for it.

Rick knew he could count on him, and he was never disappointed. Morty wasn’t the type to let his family down. Especially not the one he cared about.

Rick's face didn’t flinch when the insect-like aliens leveled their guns at him. He reclined against the booth, arms spread along the backrest. Powder was lined up in neat little rows on the reflective table in front of him, ready to be slipped into baggies for sale.

Slowly, a cat’s grin formed on his lips. The aliens hardly understood what was happening to them when Morty opened fire from behind. The bursts from his blaster mowed down most of the assailants, but one of them managed to zig-zag between the club tables to avoid being shot, even managing to clip Morty’s shoulder in retaliation. Morty collapsed with a cry of pain, but it was quickly followed by another cry that rang through the air as the alien was thrown to the ground. Rick loomed over him, his glasses having slipped down enough to reveal crazed eyes that bulged in their sockets. His gnarled hands formed iron fists that fell on the creature's grimacing face until they dripped with viscous fluids.

Sanchez's wicked grin vanished as if a switch had been flipped when he heard Morty's voice calling to him weakly. He left the inert body of his victim to rush to his side and pick him up quickly. He grumbled between clenched teeth that he had enough to heal him in the ship—wouldn’t even leave a scar, baby. In that moment, his voice was soft as velvet, almost comforting, and so unlike the harsh tone he always used.   


Morty opened his eyes, taking a few seconds to remember where he was. Butterflies tickled in his belly pleasantly. He was on a bed, and the pillow his nose was buried in smelled of sweet sex. He had fallen asleep shortly after reaching anal orgasm, something that was becoming increasingly difficult for him as of late.

He tried to recall the memories of his dream that were already slipping away from him like smoke through his fingers. A tingling in his neck made him scratch at it. Suddenly, he felt broad hands caress his buttocks, and a manly, muscular body snuggled up against him.

"Let me make you cum again," Jan whispered in his ear, brushing the lobe with his lips, while one of his fingers teased against his lubricated anus, frustratingly titillating.

Yet the excitement Morty had felt during his sleep had completely subsided. He moved away quickly and slipped out of the sheets, already looking for his clothes.

"You’re not staying?" asked the actor, visibly disappointed.

Morty smirked as he glanced at him, one hand on his hip.

“I prefer staying on the move too much for that...”

He left the room with his things under one arm, proud of his nakedness. Once out of sight, he dressed quickly and left, never turning back once.

He was surprised to find Rick waiting for him at the foot of the stairs in front of the house, his ship parked in the yard. His expression was as unreadable as ever.

"How about I give you a BUUURP ride?" Rick suggested, caressing the hood of his ship.

Morty hesitated for a second, entertaining the thought of telling him to fuck off. But he couldn’t resist. He wanted this too much.

“Okay.”

~~*~~

They hadn’t exchanged more than three words, but when they reached their destination, Morty realized that it was exactly the kind of place he wanted to go.

They were on a dark planet, where the neon lights glittered with a thousand enticing promises in the streets crowded with exotic creatures, each more breathtaking than the next.

Rick drove them to a hopping nightclub with a long queue in front. They walked in as if they owned the place, and, in all honesty, Morty couldn’t say for sure if that wasn’t the case. The dance floor was plunged in darkness and illuminated by bright flashes of every color, while screens broadcast images worthy of an acid trip. The music blasted, beating at the same pace as Morty’s heart.

Rick went to sit at a booth, while Morty ventured into the crowd to join in the song that thrummed from the speakers. The movement began in his hips, then legs, up his arms and neck, until his whole body was writhing to the music. His blonde hair twirled as he spun, hands caressing up his own belly to follow the confidence rising in him, before he lifted his arms into the air. The music filled him, as if he were no more than a receptacle for it, all thoughts and anxieties fleeing to make room for this song and dance, leaving him free.

Rick's eyes didn’t leave him for the next half hour. Then, a couple of aliens came to talk to him, and Morty suddenly lost his rhythm when he noticed that Rick was no longer watching him. He was speaking with a buxom female blamph with luscious lips and expressive ears.

Morty placed an order at the bar and came back to Rick with a fluorescent purple tequila. He sat down right on the old scientist's lap, paying no attention to his companion, and handed him a lemon wedge. Rick bit into it. He then offered the back of his hand which was coated with a line of salt. Rick gently took his wrist and licked his skin, lapping up the grains with his tongue. Morty shivered, entranced by the sight, and stared greedily at his grandfather while he took a swig of his drink.

After putting his glass down, Rick held Morty in a gentle embrace. Surprised, Morty snuggled against his chest, his face in his neck. One of Rick's hands got lost in his hair while the other caressed his back. A strange emotion, a mixture of excitement and nostalgia, made Morty shiver. He scratched at his nape with his painted fingernails and wrapped one of his arms around Rick's shoulder to give him a hug. Rick gave a soft gasp of surprise but didn’t push him away.

The music was still screaming. The people all around them were dancing, flirting, rubbing against each other.

But they were the only ones in their little universe. Alone in their embrace.

~~*~~

With the time difference, they returned in the middle of the night. Although never having been there before, Rick carried a sleeping Morty into his new home, easily opening the door without the need for keys. He located the bedroom and then lay the boy down in his bed. The sheets smelled of jasmine, and there was glitter everywhere. It didn’t look like the teenager had had any lovers over yet. While Môrt slept, Rick took the opportunity to explore the new space a little, marveling at how he’d managed to keep it so neat and tidy. Granted, he didn’t look in any cupboards or drawers. The place was spotless, except for the bay windows, which were littered with fingerprints. He heard the crunch of sand underfoot as he stepped closer to them, and Rick could easily guess how Morty spent most of his time, his hypothesis confirmed by the beach towel and tube of sunscreen sitting next to his flip-flops.

The old scientist pinched a toothpick between his thin lips and stared at where the sun had long since set. The place was in a good location. He was happy to have chosen it and he hoped Morty would like it here. This apartment was an opportunity for the kid to spread his wings and stay away from his grandfather’s problems. He couldn’t lie, it was hard seeing Morty less and less often, but it was for his own good. It kept his memory consistent, thanks to the chip, plus it spared Rick from being tempted and caving in. He had come too close tonight, and guilt wracked his stomach. When Morty had come to him, he couldn’t say no. He had wanted to touch his body, grab his ass in a gesture of ownership, and kiss him.

He closed his eyes and shivered, remembering the contact of his bare arms around him, the taste of his skin. Suddenly he had only one desire: to join him in his bed, to rouse him with a trail of kisses up those golden thighs and make his way between his legs to suck him until he squealed...

Continuing this line of thought would do nothing for his self-control. He pulled on his belt to readjust his pants, the start of an erection already distorting his fly. He sighed, casting a last longing glance at the half-opened bedroom door.

He missed Morty. And not just the sex, even though that was a big source of his frustration. He loved his presence, plain and simple. The affection and companionship they shared. Morty's sarcasm during their adventures, his seductive way of playing with fire while obediently following Rick’s plans. His freedom and charisma, indulging Rick’s little selfish desires. Morty could handle whatever Rick threw at him. It was exhilarating.

And of course, it went both ways.

But that was all over now. He couldn’t risk losing him again. He could no longer drag Morty down into this spiral of despair where others always drowned. He loved Morty and he didn’t want to hurt him, but he would end up doing it anyway, and that was slowly killing him. It was better that they stay away from each other. Even if that also ate him alive.

He needed something to distract him, and he had the perfect excuse now:

He had an adversary to track down.


End file.
